


Happiness is Unexpected

by urbanMystic



Category: Homestuck
Genre: blood mention, mild nudity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-13 00:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5687530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/urbanMystic/pseuds/urbanMystic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Instead of being captured and dying, the revolt leaders escape, and The Dolorosa finds a disjointed kind of peace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happiness is Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

  * For [locutusthecat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/locutusthecat/gifts).



It was quiet. In the middle of the rolling hills of Alternia, in a small hut surrounded by paddocks of herbivorous beasts, many days lent themselves to the illusion that there was no more fear. There was something in Porrim that would never rest, obviously, some part that ensured she slept like a purrbeast with twitching whiskers, but cozying up to the illusion of safety was like ice to an inflamed wound. The rustles and brays of her hoofbeasts and milkbeasts were nothing to fret over, nothing to set her claws unsheathed. Even the crowbeast's morning call only served to cement her thought. "I can pretend to be safe," she would think, "I can pretend nothing is abnormal for a while."

The lack of sound at the safehouse was always surprising. She felt the absence fresh every day. Today it had been clocks. There were no clocks in her hut, nothing to mark the time besides the suns and her daily ritual of re-reading Kankri's letters. The revolt had failed, yes, and she had lost much of her horns in the process, but it only increased the familial resemblance between her and her beloved son. Halfway across the plains, he and Meulin were living in a similar hut, raising their own livestock, housing and hiding trolls who were on the cusp of being culled, unfit for military service.

It was solemn, not just a vacation. After the revolt had been quashed; Kankri, Meulin, Mituna, and she had barely managed to escape the authorities. Kankri had been quiet, deathly so, for weeks as they simply ran on instinct. Porrim's memories of that time ran into the quiet of her new life easily: worry slipping into work.

A break had come from Kankri's reflections once they had hit a safehouse. In the daylight, with shadowed eyes, he had looked at his family and said, "This revolt failed. We must begin to prepare for the revolt that will succeed. We must start to protect and keep alive those who have the most to lose in this system." That had been that start of the safehouses. That had been the start of a keen in his voice like a sobbing plea.

It was expansive. In this new chapter, in all directions Maryam found herself rolling outwards: walking to and fro over her holdings as she pleased, being out in the sun without fear, raising her voice without judgement. One sunrise she had simply decided to yell at the wall of her hut for an hour and wail and cry the names of all her lost comrades. It had been about a perigree into her stay, and Porrim could remember the feeling of the next morning, torrential rain turning to frosty dew inside.

The jadeblood spent one night in the nude just to prove to herself she could and giggled at the odd pokes and prods on her from fenceposts and grasses all day. She chuckled when her breasts hung low as she bent over, reminding her of their uselessness with a silly wisp against the inside of her arms. She let her mind wander, roamed over memories as she acclimated to the perigrees of routine. She spoke aloud names she had all but forgotten and hugged herself before falling asleep. She rubbed the crack of her hornstubs just to feel the odd jolt of pleaure and pain it brought, to let herself shiver without remorse.

It was reverent. When she got on her knees and kissed the beast's jugular, she did not begrudge him a jerk of pain. Neither did she begrudge herself a sigh of relief, blessed and peaceful feeding where no one would see. After all her years of being a rainbow drinker, a mysterious demon of infernal daylight, it was oddly pacifistic to eat this way. Tomorrow her hoofbeast would rest and feed on thick fatty oats she had found, and the day after it would return to the fields in perfect health. She never had to kill to eat, so long as she tended her charges diligently.

It was nurturing. It was a boon to help the young trolls who came to her hut with nothing but the clothes on their backs and a letter from her son. Every one she clothed and worked alongside of, helping them adjust to a new name and history until they were ready to move into adulthood. There was rumor that soon all adult trolls would be expelled from Alternia. She had no idea how they would work the safehouses then, but Kankri spoke of buying ships. There would be plans. For now she simply tended and fed.

The guests brought breaks in her silence, but without them the quiet would have been oppressive. To have the hut ringing from stories shared and laughter given made for much better rest than the absolute loneliness of longer hermitage. Each traveler also brought he something: knowledge of a plant in her fields, or a small painting, or an improvement on her roof. There was something else, too, something Porrim couldn't name, in each smiling face or clenched jaw.

It was fecund. There was, in the silence, so much potential. Her herds grew and so did her compost heap, her hut became decorated with various comforts she would whittle. She built a proper firepit. Fashioned a stove from scrap sheet metal. Carved plates and bowls from the trees at the edge of her plain. Painted her doorway with plant dyes. She could stare at the grass rolling in the wind and let the ease of the moment build inside her. It wasn't just a song or a cry or a craft project. No, she could feel a spark of lust for the Beautiful again, for the curve and lip of another body or the drape of linen over knees.

It was restful. The little somethings added up slowly, punctuated by visits from Kanny and Meu and Psii. It was during one of these rare visits, actually, that 'Tuna cracked a joke about the wrinkles at the corners of Porrim's eyes and she almost cried when she realized she had lived long enough to start aging.

It was still.


End file.
